“Flesh and blood, Lestat, just like any human,” Armand replied. He was becoming annoyed. “Cut the thing, it bleeds. But it’s not human.” He went on explaining. The blood was thick, good tasting, but it had a flavoring that wasn’t in human blood. A flavoring. He couldn’t do better than that. Benji had spotted the creature hovering around Trinity Gate. It had followed Benji. The creature had been muttering things about Amel, like a crazed human follower of the radio station, only he wasn’t human. Benji called at once for a car and headed home, sending Killer to approach the creature and try to find out what it wanted.

“Well, that was likely very stupid,” I said.

“Benji protected himself,” said Armand crossly. “And Killer was the oldest blood drinker under the roof. No one else was here, except Killer and a couple of fledglings who’d recently arrived. Antoine had gone home to France when the sun set. Eleni had been with me in Midtown. I came as soon as I could. But I wasn’t fast enough. And Killer was eager to go, certain he could manage the thing.”

“Eleni,” I said. “My old friend Eleni? Everard’s Eleni?”

“Yes. Is there another Eleni? She’s weary of Rhoshamandes and his fledglings sitting around gnashing their teeth. Or so she says. Look, we can talk about all this later. Holding this thing throughout the day will be a problem, but we’re doing the best we can.”

I didn’t like the idea of Eleni being there. I didn’t trust Eleni. I loved Eleni, true, from the old Théâtre des Vampires. She’d been a veteran of Armand’s Satanic coven under Les Innocents, who had come to join me at the theater, to be free. She’d become my correspondent during the years I wandered in search of Marius. But she’d been made by Everard de Landen under the authority of Rhoshamandes, and she’d been spending most of her time with this bitter enemy of mine and his other fledglings. But to whom was she truly loyal? Armand, who’d once made her a ragged and tormented slave of Satan, or the powerful vampire who’d ruled the household in which she’d been made? I knew Everard’s heart. He never tried to disguise it. He loathed and detested the great Rhoshamandes. But what about Eleni? Rhoshamandes had been master of the coven in which she was Born to Darkness and learned her first indelible lessons of the night. Didn’t like it. Didn’t like it at all.

Louis stood a few feet away watching me. Undoubtedly he heard every word, but his face revealed nothing. He had a remote dreamy expression on his face as he so often did, but I sensed he’d been absorbing everything.